Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 December 1890 — NANNIE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

NANNIE.

BY HELEN A. STEINHACER.

rHIS April morning the snow is falling in soft, heavy flakes that become patches when thev reach the ground, which they quickly cover. ■■HU I. Lulu Tomlinsod, a professional IU f K nurse, am seated \l\lW the window V i# watching them, my hot head closely WSV pressed against the ) lyW cool pane to still its j »yl i\ throbbing. Though jf y] 1 \ mv eyes watch the ill] I \ storm my thoughts I I ll <4*l are husied with the D J 4 helpless sufferer in the adjoining room.

It is four years this month since she came from England, and my brother Edwin and I both thought her the loveliest creature we ever had seen. She had the genuine English complexion’; milk-white skin, with an exquisite color in her beautifully rounded cheeks; while her dimpled chin, the tips of both shell-like ears, and the ends of her taper finers, all shaded into a delicate pink. Thick, brown hair, with just a glint of gold in the sunshine, lay in natural waves above her low, white brow, and was simply gathered into a heavy coil at the back of her shapely head. But her crowning beauty lay in her eyes—wonderful eyes; large, clear, and golden-brown, their expression changing with every variation of her changeable moods. This was Nannie George at sixteen, when first we made her acquaintance, just four years ago. Edwin lost his heart to her at first sight, which was not to be wondered at, as he was an immature, impressionable youth of one and twenty, who had not seen much of the world. We dined together at a large boarding house, so his opportunities for seeing her were frequent, and he made the most of them, so that before I knew it they were engaged. “Oh, Lulu!” said Nannie, burying her sweet face in my bosom to conceal her fast-coming blushes, which friendly Twilight would in any case have hidden, for she had let her curtain down, And pinned it with a star. “Oh, Lulu, when I left England I never dreamed of such a thing happening! To think that I, a lonely orphan, should have found a—friend—--60 soon. God has been very, very good to me!” And, as she raised her head, I felt a tear drop on the hand which held hers. They both were too unsophisticated to conceal their fondness for each other, consequently not merely the Benjamins, under whose guardianship Nannie was, but all the rest of the boarders soon knew the exact state of affairs. How vexed I was when Miss Mahala Quenchit, a maiden lady of a score or two of years, remarked, in my hearing; “lam sorry for the girl. It’s a very great pity. Edwin Tomlinson will never marry her; some day he will awake to the fact that she cannot help him climb, and then he will ruthlessly throw her overboard and marry one who can.” My indignant rejoinder only called forth a polite apology for having spoken so in my presence; she did not retract one word. Things went along in this way for a year or two. Nannie was too young to marry, while Edwin must needs first earn the wherewithal to support a wife. But meantime my “little sister,” as I loved to call her, grew more and more precious to me, although I saw that she had not in her the stuff of which heroines are made. Her little airs of independence sat comically on her, for she was made to cling and twine, nor would she ever be one on whom anoth/r could lean. Still, as she saw how American girls earned their own support and stood alone, she was ambitious to do likewise and thus “help Edwin;” and her eyes would brighten, and the loveliest smiles dimple her cheeks and play about her crimson lips, as she pronounced his name. So when I decided to become a professional nurse and came hither for requisite training, nothing would answer but she must come. too. The Benjamins made no objection, for they considered Edwin’s and my right to her greater than their own. How she lived on my brother’s letters !—mine, as well as hers—after we were separated. He seemed to miss her, too! though hardly as much as she did him.

By-and-bv, he wrote less frequently. He was working hard at his profession, he said, and had not time to write often, or at length. But Nannie’s faith in him never wavered, though the brilliant color in her cheeks began to fade, and I noted that they were less round than of old. After we had been absent nearly two long years his letters ceased altogether. Then we knew he must be ill. Presently a telegram came confirming our worst fears, followed by a letter saying that he was well cared for, and that, though dangerously ill, they hoped for his recovery. “Let me go to him. Lulu! I must go; I have a right!” cried Nannie. But I dissuaded her, for a speechless dread of something worse than sickness, or even death, clutched at my heart; and, childlike, she submitted to my authority. But all the mirth faded out of the brown eyes, which grew bigger and bigger, with dark rings beneath them; and one night after we had retired she thiew her arms round my neck and sobbed out: “Lulu, if Edwin dies, I shall die, too.” Next morning news came that he was better, but she was tossing in fever. Her illness now is nearing its close. Edwin convalesced, but she has grown steadily worse. All her delirum has turned op him; but never once has she doubted his love or his troth. Yet, I hold in my hand a letter, newly received, in which are these words: * »en, dear sister, last night I was

married to the beloved physician to whose skill and faithfulness I owe my life. Wish me joy! Never was there a richer, nobler womanhood than that of my new-made wife. She will help me to rise, as Nannie never could have done. “Poor little girlie; break it to her gently. She is such a mere child, it will not grieve her long. Oh, Lulu! if you but knew my pearl of pearls, my Margaret!” Hark! Nannie’s voice, which I thought never again to have heard. Hastening to her bedside I find her sitting bolt upright, her eyes aglow. “He has come!” she exclaims triumphantly. “Lulu, he is here! Oh, my love, my love,” she cries, with infinite tenderness, stretching out her arms as though to clasp him in a fond embrace. Suddenly they drop heavily, and she sinks back—dead!